Grief Digest Articles

Grief Digest, April 2010I remember growing up in a fairy tale world. Our family of five wasn’t wealthy, but we always had food on the table (even in lean times). We had clothes on our back (even if they were hand-me-downs), and an occasional PTA movie or two (even if it meant bringing your own popcorn.) Our home wasn’t a castle, but we found laughter and fun. And there certainly was love, though as a family of German descent, affection was seldom expressed openly. Some would say we lived a shelt …

I had the honor recently to be nominated as one of the Nurse's to appear in my company's website for Nurse's week. The Supervisor that nominated me had also mentioned that I write a grief blog.I was interviewed for the article and asked a few questions on writing about grief. It has not been overlooked by me that grief and the effects of loss within a family are difficult subjects to write and certainly talk about. Any unpleasant subjects cause most to get uncomfortable, turn the page or want to …

“No rule book. No time frame. No judgment. Grief is as individual as a fingerprint. Do what is right for your soul.” – One Fit WidowLosing an individual who has not passed away can be as challenging as losing an individual who has passed away. In addition, losing oneself has similar aspects of losing another individual. And many times, the individual goes through the same stages of grief (an indepth analysis of the components of the grief process) including shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depr …

I still have the red bear you won for me at the fair.I was young, so were you.Years later I learned you bought the bear from the carnie.Today the bear sits in a chair in the dining room.His fur is faded and dusty, one ear droops.He wears one of my feeble knitting tries, a belt,one mom didn’t make me rip out and start over,or maybe it is woven, no matter.When I glimpse the bear on my way to the kitchen,I have a moment of warmth,that you loved me then and also now.I see you in the chair in the cor …

I've been staring at his handwriting for an hour now. He had a book of lists, you know, to do lists.I found some of his journals in storage, and I pore through them every so often. I take my finger and trace the shape of his letters, caress the loops, linger tenderly on his punctuation, and stare deeply into the intent of his doodles.My precious boy.If I were a medium I would say that his Spirit was in the room, that he was trying to communicate with me from the "other side."I would try to comfo …